


Face Lessons

by Celestial_Alignment



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Bottom Jim, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Floor Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Train Sex, riding cowboy, romantic fun, top artemus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Alignment/pseuds/Celestial_Alignment
Summary: Artemus tries to teach Jim how to be ugly, and boy does it backfire.
Relationships: Artemus Gordon/James West
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Face Lessons

“I don’t think I’m up for that, Arte…”

“You can do it, Jim. I’ve seen you do it, you just need to learn how to do it on purpose is all.”

“That’s _your_ thing, I’ve gotten by just fine without it…”

“You’ve gotten out of all kinds of harrowing scenarios using just your fists and some loose furniture, but I am telling you now Jim, my boy… Someday, you will need to change your appearance and you won’t be able to convince anyone if you’re incapable of putting on an ugly face.”

Jim was standing in front of their full length mirror in the parlor car, Arte standing against his back to look over his shoulder. Jim had graciously sparred with Artemus on multiple occasions to teach him some of his martial arts skills. The moves that Artemus was able to execute had come in handy more than once in their adventures and the former thespian wanted to share his own bit of knowledge. They were both barefoot in their shirt sleeves, vests off, quite comfortable as the train carried them to the next assignment.

Jim was frowning, hands on his hips as he stared at his reflection, turning his face this way and that. “Can’t I just stick on mustaches, maybe one of your beards?”

“You could…” Arte nodded. “But the true master of disguise knows how to affect a personality that will distract the target from noticing the glue or the putty. Now come on. Let’s try a face. How about… Guy-That’s-Been-Kicked-in-the-Head.”

“By a horse or a cow?”

That galvanized Arte’s spirit and he smiled brightly. “Back story! That’s the idea! Okay…” he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “How about… you’re a young cattle hand—you’re not ready to play any old fogey just yet—and your skull had an unfortunate meeting with a cow’s hooves while you were branding him. Ever since that day, you have the darnedest time remembering things in the short term. You don’t even remember what you had for breakfast!”

Jim was squinting now, clearly considering all of this. His face was stoic, firm, altogether too keen and beautiful. His eyes were just too sparkly, his hair too perfect.

“I know what’ll help…” Arte moved to the table where he had his make up laid out and rummaged a little. He found his face paint and brushes and he stepped in front of Jim. “Chin up and hold still…”

Jim contained a smile, those dimples appearing that always made Arte’s heart feel a little funny.

“Stop smiling…” Arte commanded distractedly as he surveyed his canvas.

“Yes, sir…” Jim straighted his face, but the way his eyes were on Arte didn’t help.

Artemus got to work, touching the brush with a careful mixture of colors along Jim’s jaw, chin, neck, mouth, into his perfectly trimmed sideburns, his tongue poking out a little as he worked. It only took a couple of minutes and he stepped back, studied, nodded. He then teased Jim’s hair, getting it out of its neat comb, twisting some of the strands and pulling it over his forehead, making him all around less neat. Now he was sporting a painted on a shadow of whiskers that Arte thought rather convincing. With a second thought, he touched a little between Jim’s eyebrows, connecting them with the lightest bridge of painted hair. 

“There…” Artemus breathed with a proud smile, his chest puffing a little as he stepped out of the way of the mirror. “ _Voila_!”

Jim stared at himself, mouth open.

“That’s the look! Your parents are probably half siblings and you drink turpentine for fun. That dumb, mouth breathing expression is just the thing, Jim!”

“God...”

“Bet’cha can manage that ugly face now. Nothing gets one into the mind of the character more than _looking_ like the character…”

“I look like… I should be missing teeth…”

Artemus was so carried away in creating a masterpiece that he didn’t even fully register the pure devastation in Jim’s voice. “I got the black wax just for that!” He moved towards the table again, but Jim’s hand hooked his elbow.

“No, no, it’s fine! I’m uh… I’m ugly enough…” he smiled, his eyes crinkling in that way that told Arte his soul was dying just a little bit.

“Alright,” Arte chuckled and gestured to the mirror. “Now then, James… Let’s see your ugly face. And don’t tell me the makeup is enough, that’s not what this exercise is about.”

Jim sighed with sheer melancholy.

“How about…” Artemus began softly. “Let’s start with the mouth. People tend to notice mouths first and an interesting mouth is the best way to distract from your eyes, which might give you away. Try jutting your jaw a bit…”

Jim’s jaw pushed out.

“Hmm… No, that’s not at all the right look…. Pull your chin back in. How about keeping your lips together, but open your jaw wide… There. See how much that changes the whole shape of your face? Suck in that bottom lip a little and you’ll have a convincing overbite…”

Jim complied every step of the way, and little by little it looked like Jim West’s intelligence was dropping before their very eyes.

“Now, ever so slightly cross your eyes,” said Arte. “Don’t over do it… Just enough to look a little glazed, like you just had a cattle cotillion on your head. There! Perfect!”

Even without instruction, Jim’s posture had slackened a bit. For this moment, he looked completely unappealing, brain damaged and a little shriveled. He managed to hold it for a minute before they both broke out into a loud laughter. Jim was shaking his head with defeat, turning his back to the mirror and leaning on Arte as he chuckled and wiped his eyes.

“Forget it, Artemus!” he giggled, giving his friend a good slap on the shoulder. “This is your territory, there’s no way in hell I could pull that off longer’n five minutes…”

“Aw, come on, Jim… It was _bellissimo_!” Arte kissed his own fingertips. “Why, together we could be quite the disguised duo! Imagine it!”

“I’m trying not to… I’m not cut out to be ugly.”

Artemus laughed harder. “That is pure vanity talking, James. Looks will only get you so far.”

Jim was leaning towards the mirror again, licking his thumb and working at getting the paint from between his eyebrows. He simply couldn’t bear being unattractive. Blues looked at Arte through the reflection. “They’ve gotten me plenty far, I think…”

“They’ve gotten you kidnapped and mickied more times than I can count…”

“I always get out of it. One way or another.”

“Right, of course…”

Artemus pretended to agree, remembering only the times that he had arrived in the nick of time to save his partner from some contraption or another. He went to work gathering his make up and tools. He suddenly got the distinct feeling that he was being watched, and when he looked over his shoulder, he found Jim staring at him, arms crossed. The unibrow was mostly gone now, but he hadn’t touched the fake stubble.

Arte chuckled lightly. “Look, all I’m saying is maybe your powers of attraction aren’t as infallible as you think they are. I have seen at least two women disinterested in you… Maybe three.”

“Mm hm…” he was moving nearer, slow and steady steps that were purposeful in a way that made Arte’s throat close for a moment.

He seized up when Jim’s body nudged Arte backward, forcing him against the table, which Jim then leaned on, one arm on each side of Arte to trap him in place. Artemus was only a couple of inches taller than Jim. When Jim had his boots on, the heels easily brought them closer to eye level, but right now in their bare feet, he found a strange thrill in the way that Jim had to tilt his face up, just a little, to look at Arte at this close range. Their faces were mere inches apart and Jim’s head was canted, his eyes very clearly flickering between Arte’s eyes and mouth.

“Artemus… Are you saying you don’t like the way I look?” he murmured in a way that was impossible to discern as a pout or a threat.

Artemus felt short of breath. He was suddenly very intrigued by his own artistic skills in the fake shadow on Jim’s face. He looked so… rugged. He suddenly wished the whiskers were real, then he could feel the scratch of them.

“I think you look just fine, Jim…” he swallowed hard, his heart rate going up. “I-I think you’re damn near the finest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Only damn near…?” his mouth was at Arte’s ear now, his breath hot on the shell of it, his lithe body aligned against him.

Arte felt Jim’s hot tongue tickling at the exposed skin just under his ear and he shuddered, his pants feeling suddenly tighter. He simply couldn’t keep his hands to himself being pinned here like this and he grabbed at Jim’s waist, feeling the hard curvature of the small of his back as he pulled him in tight.

“Not damn near…” Arte’s voice shook. “There’s nothing on either side of the Rockies as fine as you…”

Jim suddenly stepped back, hands already working at the buttons of his own shirt, shrugging it off easily to reveal that bronze torso and abs. “You’ve been so helpful in teaching me, Artemus, can I show you just one move?”

Arte had an impossible to miss erection and he was red in the cheeks. “Now?” his voice broke.

“It’s easy, I promise.” And yet, Jim didn’t stop with his shirt. He was peeling away those tight pants until he was naked as the day he was born, his own manhood a little less alert than Arte’s currently was.

Arte didn’t have much thought in his head as he pushed off slowly from the table, ready to comply. Jim was close again, his strong hands curling into the front of Arte’s shirt, wrinkling it. Artemus leaned in, unable to resist kissing him. Lips barely brushed when Jim suddenly moved, his leg sweeping under Arte so fast and hard, Arte felt himself suspended in the air for a moment. The grip that Jim had on his shirt, however, allowed him to set Arte onto his back on the carpet gently enough that Arte only grunted a little with the light impact. Jim was on top of him, straddling his stomach and looking down at him with a flush of action, the spark in his eyes that he only got in a fight.

Artemus was so hard it hurt.

Jim was grinning at him. “I got you on your back and at my mercy, all without pulling an ugly face.”

He realized too late that Jim had used his powers of seduction to prove a point. He wanted to be mad, he truly did, but Jim had gotten him fair and square. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, but he couldn’t help laughing.

“I really set myself up for that one, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay, Arte… No one’s perfect.” He was shimmying back until he was sitting on Arte’s thighs, his hands working Arte’s belt.

He was kneading at Jim’s thighs, finding the muscle there hard and thick in way that was savory on his tongue just to look at. “We do have at least two beds to relocate to, James…” his voice rattled, his eyes staring stupidly between Jim’s hand and his cock.

“Sounds like two perfectly good places to sleep after…” Jim answered simply, giving his trousers a good downward tug, Arte’s manhood springing out hot and already weeping.

“It does seem to be a very long walk from here—Oh!” Arte gasped when Jim stroked him with a tight grip. He was breathless already and didn’t dare speak another word, fearing Jim would stop.

Jim had both of their cocks in one hand, hot against each other, his hand squeezing, pulling, gathering the precum to drag it over them both. Arte’s eyes rolled closed and he wriggled a little under the welcome weight of Jim West, never letting go of his muscular thighs on each side of him. Jim was grunting softly, breathing sharply through his nose. It was so quiet, but the noise in Arte’s head was so loud. 

“Arte…” he drawled so low it seemed to vibrate through him. He took Arte’s hand from his thigh, guiding it to their cocks and urging Arte to take over in stroking them both, hard and fast. Artemus was happy to obey, Jim’s manhood hot to the touch and as soft as it was hard.

Jim’s fingers were in his mouth now, and Arte shuddered at the sight of him sucking gingerly on two fingers, looking down the length of his fine nose at Arte, unblinking with utter exhibitionism. He withdrew his fingers and there was a generous string of spit in the process, and he reached behind himself. Though Arte couldn’t see it, he knew what Jim was doing when he arched his back, biting down on his bottom lip with a short, high sound, the muscles of his shoulder rolling as he worked himself with his own fingers. Arte sure loved to watch him work.

What Jim was doing to himself was effective, he was beginning to labor for breath, and he jolted once or twice with a surge of pleasure, he was positively pulsing in Arte’s grip. Artemus himself was heaving for air and in agony for release. In a sudden movement, Jim tore Arte’s hand from their erections and was sitting up. One hand curled into the collar of Arte’s shirt and he was straddling him with the same expertise he carried in the saddle of his horse, as if Arte’s shirt was the reins, and honestly, Arte had never been so turned on in all his life to be ridden by James West.

Jim aligned himself and gently sank down, Arte’s cock pushing inside him slowly, so tightly that they both stopped breathing for a moment. Jim made sure he took him in completely, the muscles of his abdomen hard with the acceptance, his mouth open but without a sound. Slowly, his hips rolled, and Arte could do nothing but grip him by his hips. Jim quickened the pace in increments, building, working up a rhythm until he was rocking fast, his body moving with the balance of a rider in a rodeo.

Arte wanted to say his name, tell him how beautiful he was, how good it felt, but he could only manage incoherent and rather embarrassing grunts and groans. Jim was beginning to moan now, that low purr of his rasping with short breaths, occasionally his voice climbing to a higher pitch. Arte wanted more of that, the rare higher octaves of James West. He took Jim’s neglected manhood in his hand again and began stroking him fast and hard in rhythm with the younger man’s bucking. It worked—Jim was gasping now, grinding faster and more frantically.

Artemus could feel that ache in his lower back as the friction increasingly became too much, the pressure building and building, and he couldn’t keep still, his hand working with impressive strength and speed to jerk off Jim while his free hand was desperately clawing at thigh, his own hair, the carpet, the leg of the table.

“Jim…” he was gasping. “Jim, don’t stop now… don’t…”

“Come on, Arte…” he was breathless and damp with sweat, his pace never faltering, even clenching around Arte as he coaxed him. “I want you to come…”

Jim didn’t have to ask him twice, and Arte couldn’t have held out if he tried. A few more ruts from Jim and Arte’s body locked, his lungs seizing as he released everything into the other, violent tremors shooting through him with every wave of orgasm. His lungs finally released air in a long, bellowing moan. Jim didn’t stop moving, though. He was still rocking, his pace changed, now for his own benefit, and he took over for Arte’s limp hand to stroke himself. Arte was sensitive and Jim fucking himself on him only made him more delirious. It wasn’t long before Jim came too, his own hot seed decorating Arte’s shirt, a little reaching his chin. 

Jim moaned softly, biting hard on his bottom lip with labored breaths, his hips finally ceasing their relentless rocking. Arte was still heaving under him, closing his eyes as the world spun around him, his arms sprawled on each side of him. He didn’t have a bone left in his body. He was only somewhat revived when he felt Jim’s mouth on his, kissing him deeply and sloppily, and chuckling. He dismounted from Arte and got to his feet. When Arte opened his eyes, he could see the rug burn on Jim’s knees, but the man was glowing with the exercise. From the floor, he watched Jim’s perfect ass as he walked away, returning with a towel, wiping between his thighs. He smiled down at Arte with those damn dimples.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a train…” Arte slurred, as if using his best drunkard’s lilt, tucking himself back into his pants. “A wonderful… amazing… delightful train…”

Jim reached out a hand and helped pull him to his feet, and as soon as he was upright, Arte was holding him again, kissing him madly. But a thought had him break the kiss with a laugh.

“What?” Jim was smiling, albeit confused.

“Hm? Oh, nothing… It’s just that I now know how to get you to make that ugly face.”


End file.
